


Fragging by the Ship Yard

by Kiyuo_Honoo



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cross-Faction Relationships, Hook-Up, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyuo_Honoo/pseuds/Kiyuo_Honoo
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Fragging by the Ship Yard

The station they made a pit stop at for fuel and other things was boring as the pit, at least to Hot Rod who had been quickly booted from the Wrecker’s ship and told to shoo while the others got busy. He had pouted and bugged Kup why he wasn’t given any tasks when the older mech had waited him out.

(Kup had puffed his cigar with a certain look in his optics as he looked at Hot Rod, “I know you wouldn’t stay on task easily kid, especially if those involved staying on the ship. So you go shoo and see the sights, keep an optic out for any trouble and comm us right away and get your aft back so we can get before it finds us.”

Hot Rod didn’t know why he was given _that_ task considering the others would have been better choices. Especially Blurr with how fast he would be able to get back to the ship if there _was_ trouble. He just grinned and two-finger saluted Kup before spinning on his heel and walking off.

He wasn’t that stupid and knew that Kup was serious and he wouldn’t be letting his guard down that easily.)

Of course, that was all before meeting another Cybertronian in one of the few bars that catered to their species. Hot Rod had removed and stashed his Autobot badge in his subspace to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention in the case of other species not being happy with either fraction. A _neutral_ was easily allowed around most planets, it worked well for them, with the rust and faded paint spots from lack of good energon and the rations they had.

(Hot Rod had already managed to buy some good energon, which was most likely engex, to take back with him.)

And now? Hot Rod might have been a _teensy_ bit intoxicated as he giggled at something the other Cybertronian said. The mech was attractive, to say the least, dark gray and black plating with red optics set in his handsome dark faceplate. And the _fangs_ that peaked out with each grin? He was _smitten_ with this mech.

The optics screamed _Decepticon_ , but Kup had made sure Hot Rod and the others knew that optic color didn’t mean slag in the beginning and some mechs might not have changed their optic lenses when picking a side or staying neutral.

There was no way in the pit that Hot Rod was leaving without getting this mech’s comm number, maybe even a quick frag before having to take off if the mech was up for it. So far the idea had a very high possibility of happening.

The mech, (“Designation’s Deadlock sweet spark,” the dark mech introduced himself, flashing a fang with a wink and his low voice rumbling in a purr.), had started running those deadly claw tips across the top of his hand and dipping into his wrist joint to tweak the cables underneath.

“Got any plans hot stuff?” One of Deadlock’s claws pulled at a cable before removing his claws and throwing back the rest of his drink.

Hot Rod let out a giggle as he threw the rest of his back as well, “Not right now, still got a few cycles before I gotta leave.”

Deadlock purred, pulling Hot Rod up with him as he stood from his seat, and holy slag. The brightly painted bot didn’t realize Deadlock was _that big_ , he figured the mech was big he just didn’t expect to only reach below the other’s chestplate.

He let himself get pulled out of the bar, easily keeping pace with Deadlock’s long stride (having to keep up with Magnus had its perks). It didn’t matter where exactly Deadlock was leading him, as long as it ended with what he thought the larger mech was hinting at.

It sure didn’t stop him from raising an optic ridge as they made their way close to the ship port, “I seriously doubt you’re taking me to your ship, so why are we heading toward the port?”

Deadlock mumbled something unintelligible before turning his gaze down with a fanged smirk, “As much as I’d love to frag you for the majority of time before you have to leave, I don’t have that kind of time. I’m going to frag you as long as I can before I have to head out so we’re going to be close to the port.”

“Wow, mech. Better frag me good then,” Hot Rod winked with a good-natured chuckle and nudge at the bigger bots arm. A sharp engine rumble was his answer as Deadlock bent down and snapped his denta close to his audial. The motion had a shiver running up Hot Rod’s backstrut.

Frag, he absolutely _loved_ it when his berth partner had fangs. Deadlock better know how to use them right or he was going to be _very_ disappointed.

It didn’t take long before Deadlock was dragging him to a quieter and not as trafficked area close by the port. Hot Rod’s back clanged against the wall as he was slammed against it, his spoiler twinging in pain from the force. The grimace that started to crease his features was quickly washed away by Deadlock swooping down and kissing him.

Hot Rod whimpered at the force of the kiss, Deadlock’s fangs pressing and nicking the soft derma. Claws dragged down his sides, tracing the top edge of his hips before those hands wrapped around his waist and _lifted_ him. The bright bot squeaked as he was dragged up, spoiler scraping against the wall and sending twinges of pain even as his engine revved at the show of strength.

He could feel the heat rush to his cheeks as the dark mech laughed. Hot Rod pouted at Deadlock, the mech just smirking before ducking his helm and shoving it under Hot Rod’s chin, forcing his head back against the wall. Those dangerous fangs latched onto his neck, putting just enough pressure for him to feel the danger but not enough to actually bite through. The pressure caused a reaction, making his frame freeze up and his intakes turn shallow.

Even with his teeth latched precariously to Hot Rod’s neck cables, Deadlock slotted himself between the smaller mech’s legs, claws scratching thin lines down the bright hips and thighs. He kept one hand clutching a bright thigh as the other dragged more lines up the other to curve around that nice aft.

A few taps to the burning and damp codpiece had it sliding open. Deadlock was impressed it didn’t just snap open as he expected, the smaller bot seemed more than interested and it would have been a reasonable response to being so turned on. Releasing those tantalizing neck cables with a purr, Deadlock shifted his grip to carefully slide two of his claw-tipped digits into Hot Rod’s valve from behind.

Hot Rod wrapped his arms around Deadlock’s neck to drag the mech into a kiss full of teeth. When they finally pulled apart, a string of oral lubricant hung between them before it broke off. The flame-colored mech grinned lopsidedly even as he pulled Deadlock’s helm closer again to start mouthing at his neck cables. Deadlock groaned, sinking his digits deeper to work the protomesh looser.

A bite just right to his neck cables had his spike cover snapping open, spike pressurizing almost too fast. He rutted into the air to get rid of the sting from pressurizing so quickly. The air wasn’t a good substitute for the valve he could be burying himself into.

With that thought, Deadlock pulled his now soaked digits free and knocking Hot Rod away from his neck cables, dropped the smaller mech the few inches down to grind their bared arrays together.

He got dragged into another kiss messy full of biting denta and oral lubricant trailing down their chins. Deadlock shifted, tilting Hot Rod’s hips up and sliding in. They both groaned. Hot Rod’s legs wrapped tightly around Deadlock’s waist and rotated his hips once their arrays were as flushed together as they could get in their current position.

“Primus you feel good.”

Hot Rod laughed, the action shaking his frame and sending sensation down to where they were connected. He pulled Deadlock close to press a wet kiss to his cheek guard, “You don’t feel so bad yourself. Now, you gonna frag me good and hard or not?”

The dark mech’s hands slammed into the wall Hot Rod was braced on, talons gouging deep grooves into the stone as his hips stuttered. The flame-colored brat just smirked as he rotated his hips again and rippled his valve over Deadlock’s spike.

Deadlock let out a choked noise as he started moving. It wasn’t nice or slow. It was hard, fast, and rough. And all the cheeky brat did was laugh between moans and gasps. Deadlock wasn’t fairing much better as he buried his face into those tantalizing neck cables to puff hot air against them.

It didn’t take long before Deadlock was shaking, already on the edge and much too close to overloading. He had no idea how close the hot brat was to overloading, but there was no way he was going over the edge first. He hilted his spike in that clenching valve with a shiver, he didn’t move for a few kliks as he fended off the creeping overload. Once he got a hold of himself, Deadlock rotated his hips, grinding his spike housing against Hot Rod’s valve.

The smaller mech gripped tighter to his armor, more than likely leaving streaks of gold against his dark plating. Deadlock couldn’t get the processing power to actually care about how he’ll be looking at the end of this tryst.

He mouthed at Hot Rod’s neck cables, keeping his denta behind his lips to keep the temptation to _bite_ out of his processor.

Hot Rod’s legs tightened even more as he undulated his hips to get more of that friction. It didn’t take long before Hot Rod stiffened with a broken gasp. Deadlock felt the heat and release of more lubricant as Hot Rod overloaded, and with a few grinds into the still flexing valve, overloaded himself with a low groan into Hot Rod’s neck.

They stayed like that, with vents wide open as their fans ran high.

Deadlock grunted in confusion as Hot Rod started shaking, only to snort as the mech started laughing. He couldn’t help but smirk at the other’s mirth.

“Something funny?”

The laughter was barely stifled as Hot Rod’s bright optics looked at Deadlock, his optics crinkled in amusement, “Nah, just think we should do this again if we ever see each other again,” he flashed a grin, “this was fun.”

Deadlock couldn’t help rolling his optics as he finally pulled out, spike depressurizing back into its housing. He pulled his claws out of the marred wall and helped lower Hot Rod down, the smaller bot’s legs shaking but no worse for wear.

Deadlock couldn’t pull his optics away from the mess of his transfluid leaking out of Hot Rod’s valve and dripping to the ground or sliding down those orange thighs. He jerked back as fingers snapped close to his faceplate.

“Really? Maybe next time we meet we won’t be on time constraints. So stop staring and help me will ya?” Hot Rod had an optic raised at Deadlock as he pulled out some cloths, threw one at him, and started wiping up the mess. Starting at his valve and thigh joints so his valve cover could snap shut.

Checking his chrono to see how much time he had before he had to book it to the ship, Deadlock shrugged and kneeled down to start wiping away the lubricant and transfluid sliding down to Hot Rod’s knee joints.

They were done quickly, Hot Rod took the cloth back from Deadlock and shoved it somewhere in his subspace as Deadlock took out a cloth of his own to wipe the mess of his own plating. He was stopped before even starting as gold digits hooked into his collar faring and pulled him the few inches down to press a kiss against his lips.

Hot Rod pulled away, winked, and quickly disappeared around a corner.

Deadlock was left shuttering his optics before shaking his helm with a huff and quickly wiping himself down before heading out of the alleyway.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , they would meet again.


End file.
